


Sometimes, Your Experiments Go Wrong

by aloremi



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Baking, Bleeding, Blood, Dogs, Fluff, Forduary 2021, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloremi/pseuds/aloremi
Summary: Ford and Stan try to bake a cake.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Kudos: 16





	Sometimes, Your Experiments Go Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> For Forduary 2021 Week 2: Fluff and Angst  
> I am late to posting (and writing) this. A robot could have made this writing sound more human. Another example of me being Bad at "show, don't tell". 
> 
> Insert encouragement for others to keep writing here.

Ford liked baking. It was chemistry that he was allowed to eat. Fiddleford and Stan disliked when he would try to eat his experimental chemistry. 

Baking was following instructions and going by the book. Those were the best ways to live as well. He only had to account for oven temperatures, altitude, freshness of ingredients to determine if the recipe would come out exactly as designed. Just like a laboratory experiment. 

Cooking was a whole other story of going by how the chef “felt”, and going off the book. Ford did not enjoy cooking. Everything he cooked was either severely undercooked or burnt. That is besides the point. 

The mid-morning sunlight illuminated the kitchen of the Mystery Stack. Ford was seated at the kitchen table with an open recipe book. Ford and Stan were going to be baking a cake. He was studying the recipe while Stan was in town to buy ingredients. Before beginning an experiment, it was imperative to be familiar with the entire procedure before beginning.

The creak of the front door opening alerted Ford to Stan’s arrival. Ford turned towards the door to see Stan kick it closed. He had a couple bags on each arm. Ford chuckled and walked through the living room to take a couple bags from his brother.  
“Why don’t you ask for help, Stan?” They walked back into the kitchen together and started putting away what they did not need for the cake.

“I didn’t need any help. I was handling the weight just fine.” Stan said, setting a stick of butter on the counter. It needed to soften.

Ford scoffed and shook his head. He measured and poured the dry ingredients into a mixing bowl. 

“That is exactly what you said after dropping that crate on your foot.” Ford retorted. Stan huffed out a laugh. He cracked a couple eggs into a different mixing bowl and whisked them.

They continued with their light banter. 

Ford grabbed a knife and the softened butter. He was at ease, having fun with his brother. 

A sharp, slight pain made him jump. Droplets of blood, almost a slow stream, were coming from a small cut on his finger. Ford stared at his blood, his heart rate accelerating. 

This was bad. The creatures, the hounds, would find him. He remembered the dimension. He remembered walking through thorny vines in a jungle and getting covered with scratches that had caused him to lightly bleed. He remembered exiting that part of the jungle to find a herd of the hounds awaiting him upon his exit. The giant, growling creatures. The piles of bones that he could see on the ground all around him. He had spun around and sprinted back through. The hounds had chased after him. His heart rate beating.

“Ford! Ford! Come back to me, Sixer!” Someone was touching him, squeezing his shoulders. How was someone touching him if he was running through a dense, dangerous jungle? 

He blinked and saw his finger again. It looked almost transparent, like a mirage. Was he in that jungle, or was he home? 

He was sitting at the kitchen table. Wasn’t he just standing at the counter? He was confused.   
Ford tilted his head upwards and saw Stan. Somehow. 

“Can you hear me now?” Stan asked, concerned. His hands were still on Ford’s shoulders. Ford nodded. He sounded farther away than he probably should have. 

Stan sighed in relief and sat in a chair next to Ford. He put his face in his hands. Ford looked at his hands. His previously bleeding finger now had a bandage on it. 

Removing his hands from his face, Stan looked at Ford. His eyebrows were furrowed. 

“Are you feeling better? I finished the batter, but we can put it in the oven later.” 

“Yes, I feel fine. I have some work to do my lab.” This was uncomfortable. Ford stood to leave. Stan also stood.

“Wait. Maybe we should talk about this.” 

Ford shook his head, and brushed past Stan towards the elevator. He had to do something, or find a way to prevent this from happening in front of Stan, again.


End file.
